


Pieces Of Him

by bitch_I_might_be



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is George Washington's Biological Son, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Am I projecting???? I sure hope not, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Avert your eyes, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Hurt/Comfort, I honestly cannot tell you why I wrote this, I'm Sorry, I'm Sorry Lin-Manuel Miranda, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Of course he is I can't write anything else, Please don't hate me guys I'm not always like this, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, Why Did I Write This?, i mean somewhat, i'm sorry dad, the non-con is explicit and detailed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29590194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitch_I_might_be/pseuds/bitch_I_might_be
Summary: Alexander and Thomas had been dating for a while now.But they hadn't- they hadn't, yet. Alex had never done that with another man before, and he needed some more time.Unfortunately, Thomas grew tired of waiting.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington, Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	Pieces Of Him

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say for myself.  
> Just, uhhh I wrote this a long ass time ago, even before I wrote Thin Ice, and I have only now found the courage within me to post it :)  
> Also, if you've read my other (not filthy lol) works, some lines in this might seem familiar - as mentioned, I wrote this before I began my series, and I recycled some lines I liked into other fics, so yeah :)  
> Anyway, as I said: avert your eyes!! Heed the warning, please!!! Like I will say it again, there's explicit rape in this! Please don't trigger yourself for my dumbass little fanfic! Thank you!

“Thomas… wait a second, I-” Alexander broke off when Thomas leaned down from where he was perched between his spread thighs and sealed his lips in a searing kiss, his tongue velvet-smooth against his own.

“It’s okay,” he said after he was done tilting Alexander’s world with a simple kiss. His big hands slid down the insides of his thighs, rubbing and massaging the sensitive skin; his dark eyes followed their trace with interest, with hunger.

Alexander flushed crimson, and he had to push down on the urge to close his legs. He had never felt truly at ease with being naked around anyone, and this… he was the centre of attention, spread out flat on the bed with Thomas above him, crowding him in. 

And the goddamn light was still on. Alexander Hamilton didn’t have sex with the lights on. Thomas Jefferson apparently did.

Alex was in a state of complete undress, Thomas had made sure of that, had pulled his clothes off as soon as he hit the bed, but the man himself had only unbuttoned his shirt and was otherwise fully dressed. The position he was in, his nakedness, the lights–Alexander had never felt so completely and utterly exposed before. The way Thomas was looking at him didn’t help, like he wanted to devour him whole.

He had to muster up all his willpower to refrain from squirming under that intense gaze. 

“Thomas,” he tried again and bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering.

Thomas sighed and looked back up at his face, an expression like Alex was the most annoying yet intriguing thing he had ever come across on his handsome features. “What is it, babe?”

“I- I’m really not sure about this,” he said, trying to look him in the eye but not quite managing, and stared at his forehead instead.

Thomas smiled, a condescending little thing. “Oh, baby, there’s nothing to worry about,” he said. One of the wandering hands slipped from his leg and out of sight, along his ass; something nudged at his hole with gentle pressure, and this time Alexander’s legs would have slammed closed if it weren’t for Thomas between them. 

He leaned over him again, and like this Alex was reminded how much physically bigger than him his boyfriend was. 

Thomas dipped down and pressed a close-mouthed kiss to his lips before he pulled back a little and scrutinised his face, searching for a reaction when the gentle nudge between his legs turned into firm circles. Alex gasped, more at the foreign feeling than out of pleasure, but Thomas grinned that smug grin of his nonetheless.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, babe.”

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to channel his usual self-assured and assertive personality he had left just outside the bedroom door. “Just, wait a minute. Please?”

Thomas sighed again, this time more annoyed than intrigued, and swatted at his ass. “What? At this rate, we’re going to be here tomorrow morning, Alex,” he said. Despite making no move to surrender his position, it seemed he would actually wait to hear Alex out. Small victories.

“Look, I, I don’t really- I’m not really feeling it right now, okay? I’m… not in the mood, you could say. Can’t we just, like, cuddle?”

Thomas looked down at him, unimpressed at his stuttered attempt at an explanation, then put his hands on either side of Alexander’s head to loom above him once more. To cage him in. 

“No, I don’t think so. Sorry, doll, but this is happening, so you better get in the mood real quick.”

His breath stuck in his throat, and his eyes went wide. “What? Thomas, this isn’t-”

“Shh,” he whispered and trailed kisses down his jaw, his neck, along his collarbone. 

Alex felt cold, and stiff as a board. This was a twisted joke, Thomas wouldn’t just take what he wanted without asking, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t-

He exhaled a shaky breath. “Get off, Thomas, I want to leave.”

Thomas snorted. “No,” he said against his neck.

He blinked a couple times, trying to rid himself of the wetness gathering in his eyes, put his hands flat on his boyfriend’s half-clothed chest and pushed; to no avail. Thomas didn’t budge.

The only thing he managed to do was to summon an angry glint to Thomas’ eyes when he looked back up at him. 

“You wanna be like that, babe? Fine,” he said and caught both his wrists in a fluid motion, dragged them up above Alexander’s head and pinned them there with only one hand, his cool precision and easy movement almost frightening. Had- had he thought about this before?

Alex just stared with wide eyes for a moment, before he snapped into action and struggled in earnest. He twisted his arms, trying to break free of the vice-like hold on his wrists, and attempted to pull his legs up into a position to kick Thomas off. 

Thomas pressed down harder on his wrists; his grip tightened to the point of being painful. Tears sprung to his eyes, despite Alexander’s best efforts to control himself.

“Thomas, let go!” 

The man caught one of his flailing legs and folded it over the other, sat down on both and trapped him completely.

Thomas bent over him again, reached into the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube. Alexander looked up at him and shook his head as his self-control broke and the tears spilled over, rolled down his cheeks and into his hair-line. 

“Please, don’t,” he sobbed, body slumping under the weight on top of him.

Thomas paid him no heed and managed with some difficulty to flip the bottle open with his one free hand. He shifted on Alexander’s legs, positioning them so that Alex’s lower part was turned on its side; he squeezed some lube on his fingers and used the easy access to toy with Alexander’s rim.

Alex tried to flinch away, but he was pinned. “I’m sorry, please, stop, please, Thomas-”

“Shut up, Alex,” he responded to his begging, almost sounding bored as he slid the first finger into him. Alex tensed up instantly at the intrusion, which earned him another annoyed look. “Stop clenching, just relax. That way it’ll hurt less.”

“Take it out,” Alex attempted to command, a mental image of how his father held himself when he issued an order before his inner eye. That was a mistake, as it turned out, because his chest contracted around heaving breaths and more tears shot to his eyes; between those two things, he could barely contain his sobs. 

He wanted his dad. He wanted to fold himself into his strong arms and hide from the world like he used to do back when he had been little; and at the same time, he never wanted to have to look him in the eye again. Dad would be so ashamed, so disgusted by the situation his pathetic, weak son had found himself in. 

Thomas’ full lips quirked up in an unamused half-smile, and a second finger pressed in next to the first one. Alex shook his head, mouth open in silent sobs.

Thomas pumped his fingers in and out slowly, curling them until they connected with a bundle of nerves inside him that shook him to the core. Electricity zapped up his spine and he gasped, body tingling. 

His boyfriend’s decidedly unamused smile turned smug at his reaction.

“Told ya I was gonna make you feel good, didn’t I?”

“Take them out!”

His plea fell once again on deaf ears. 

A third finger was added, and Alex’s breath stuck in his throat. It _hurt_. It burned, it was wrong, he didn’t want this, he wanted his dad, his _mom_ , oh his mom, but most of all, he wanted Thomas to get off and take his filthy hands off him.

The fingers did retreat eventually, and the weight lifted from his legs. He didn’t even try to kick out, he was so tired, he couldn’t see through the curtain of tears that covered his vision, and his chest hurt so bad.

Thomas splayed his legs open and settled back between them, not releasing his wrists. 

There was the clink of a belt-buckle, a zipper being pulled down, a pause–then the tell-tale click of the bottle. Something slick and blunt and bigger than those fingers nudged against him, and he sobbed.

“Please, please, _please_ , don’t do this, Thomas, don’t, I want to go home, just let me _go,_ please-”

He ignored his rambling, intense gaze fixed to the point where their bodies would connect, and started to push in. 

A sudden wave of nausea swept over him, and he clenched, and that made it hurt so much worse.

“Relax, baby boy,” Thomas said in a low voice. He didn’t slow. He was going to split Alex open.

“Take it out, take it out, _Thomas_ , please take it out, it hurts-”

Thomas leaned down and kissed his unresponsive lips. He pressed on, and Alex wanted to scream. The stretch was unbearable, it wouldn’t fit, something was going to tear-

Alexander didn't know if he was relieved or disgusted when Thomas finally bottomed out, but at least he stilled for a moment, a precious moment’s time in which he felt he might burst apart from the pressure inside him. 

How people did this for fun, he would never understand. There was nothing nice about it, it just _hurt_ , he was trapped, stuck, he wanted to _leave_ but he _couldn't,_ his chest was empty and his heart still, other parts of him were... _full,_ too full, too much, and he _hated_ it.

Thomas loosened his hold on his wrists, waiting a second to see if he would try something, then released them. He had Alex where he wanted him, he wouldn't be able to break free without Thomas permitting him, and the man knew it.

The hand that had restrained his wrists lowered to his face; Alex winced and squeezed his eyes shut, convinced Thomas would slap him.

Thomas tutted at him and settled his hand against his cheek, wiping at a tear-track with his thumb. 

“Now, now, I'm not gonna hurt you, babe,” he said, his face so open and genuine Alex wanted to laugh despite everything.

“You are hurting me,” he shot back, without any heat. He must know that, with the way Alexander had been sobbing and begging him to stop, and he clearly didn’t care.

“I wouldn't be if you just relaxed, bub.” His smile was all teeth, perfect and white. Alex had the sudden urge to punch them in.

He didn't. Instead, he brought his arms back down from over his head, his shoulders twinging, and wrapped them around his own midriff, as if he could protect himself like that. 

He glanced down only for a split-second–his wrists were circled with red finger-shaped imprints. They would probably bruise, and how was he supposed to hide that? How was he supposed to _explain_ that?

Thomas started to move his hips in slow circles, grinding into him.

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good,” he panted and ducked back down, kissing at his tears. 

Dear God, why was he so gentle all of a sudden? How could he act like he hadn’t just held Alex down while he cried and forced his way inside him?

“Stop calling me that,” Alex said, breath hitching.

He chuckled, a warm sound from deep in his chest. “I’ll do as I damn well please, doll.”

To think he had been well on the way to falling in love with that man.

Alex felt sick with the thought, with the sour realisation that he could have loved him, that he would have given him this had he asked him again in maybe a month.

Thomas straightened up and sat back on his haunches, dragging Alexander’s hips along and gripping his waist tight, like he thought him nothing more than a sack of potatoes; the perceived gentleness from just a moment prior was gone.

Alex couldn’t bear to look at him. He had thought he knew what was going on behind that face, how Thomas felt about him, but there they were. 

His blurry gaze focused somewhere behind a broad shoulder, and he cried quietly, gasping through the tears as Thomas thrust into him. 

He went slow and stopped occasionally to add more lube, and Alex hated him for it. Why pretend to care? Why act like he didn’t want to hurt him, when he was hurting him in a million different, worse ways?

“Why?” he said, eyes fixed on the far wall. Just like that, Thomas was in his face again, licking along the shell of his ear and nipping at his neck. If the asshole left any more bruises on him, so help him God-

“Mh… baby boy, you can’t tease a man like that and then not put out, that’s just cruel,” he said and sunk his teeth into the juncture of his shoulder and neck, sucked the caught skin, harshly and without feeling. 

That would leave a bruise for sure. 

Alex sobbed.

“I wasn’t-”

“Sure you were, look at you. You can’t flaunt all that and expect me not to take it.”

‘It’. Was that what he was, an object? A place to put his dick? He tasted bile.

“Stop, Thomas, just pull it out,” he begged again. 

He wouldn’t be able to take the slow drag of his dick inside him much longer, it burned, it stung, but worst of all, a spark of pleasure shot up his spine and pooled hot in his stomach whenever Thomas hit _that_ spot, and Alex wanted none of it.

“For God’s sake, Alex, just relax and enjoy it. You’re acting like you’ve never taken a cock before, princess.”

Alex went very still, eyes going wide, and he knew what his face looked like when it crumpled into an ugly sob, so he turned his head into the pillow underneath his head and buried his tears there.

Thomas stopped dead. The relentless movement inside him cut off abruptly, and he was left with a still, uncomfortable fullness with nothing to distract him from it.

He cupped Alexander’s jaw and turned his face back so that he was forced to look at him, and searched his features like it was the first time he saw them. 

“You’ve never done this before?” he said, a weird mix of emotion in his voice. Alex’s stomach churned when he realised most of it was delight. “You're a virgin? This is the first time anything’s been in there? No, you must have put toys before, or your fingers. You finger yourself open, baby?”

Alex kept quiet and imagined the old apple-tree in the garden of his childhood home back in Virginia. Thomas was from fucking Virginia, too.

His silence was answer enough for him. “Aww, babe, you should have said something, I would have taken more time with the foreplay.” 

And the bastard mocked him.

The flare of heat that came alive in his chest was sudden and surprising. 

Alex pulled one leg up and kicked at Thomas’ torso, but he caught his ankle in an iron grip before he could even touch him and knocked his leg back to his side.

“You little bitch,” he hissed out, a dangerous glint in his eyes like a flash of lightning. Alex froze, breathing heavily, the short flame extinguished as fast as it had flickered to life, leaving nothing but freezing cold darkness in its wake. 

Thomas fumed in silence for a second, but then he clutched at his hip again with one hand, his fingers digging into his flesh tight enough to bruise, and with the other he struck out and backhanded him across the face, full force. 

His head snapped to the side and his vision swam from both tears and the impact. A wet whimper broke from Alexander’s throat, and he hated the sound.

“Cry all you want, whore, we are finishing this, and I’ll make you remember it.” He pressed a rough kiss to his mouth and bit his lip hard enough for Alex to taste copper, and the hand not on his hip found the base of his throat.

“No, please,” was all Alex got out before Thomas started pounding into him at a punishing pace. The bed-frame shook with his thrusts, and he grunted and panted, pressing down on Alexander’s throat from time to time, when he wailed too loud for his taste.

“You’re so tight, Alex, so good. I bet you love this, huh? Little slut like you would, next time I should invite James, he could give that pretty mouth something better to do than crying like a little girl.”

Alex tried not to listen to his ramblings, but the mention of a ‘next time’ made his blood run cold. 

There wouldn’t be a next time, he couldn’t, he didn’t even know how he was going to survive _this_ time.

At least Thomas wasn’t focused enough anymore to aim for that spot inside him, and Alex went back to just hurting; he was fine with that.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned and picked the impossible pace up again. 

The wet slap of sweaty skin on skin filled the room, but Alex couldn’t concentrate enough to block it out. 

His brain was failing him, and try as he might, he couldn’t block much of anything out any longer; the pain, the sensation of something moving inside him, Thomas’ too tight, too rough, too hot hands on his body, his sweat-slick skin on his, Thomas’ disgusting _words._

“Alex,” he groaned, and Alex hated that he used his name in this, that he thought he had the right to call him by his nickname, that he had the audacity to address him as a person when he didn’t see him as one. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fill you up, fill you up so good, babe,” he muttered, the words slurred together and his voice climbing in pitch.

It would be over. This nightmare would end, Alex could go home to his parents and sit on the couch and cry and scream his throat raw, and dad would hold him through it and mom would make him hot chocolate and tell him everything would be okay, and he would believe it because mom never lied to him-

Thomas clamped his teeth into Alexander’s shoulder and bit down _hard,_ and a long, drawn-out groan escaped his throat as something wet and hot exploded deep inside Alex.

 _Oh, God_. Horror gripped him and his stomach plummeted as the heart-stopping realisation hit him: Thomas hadn’t been talking dirty. He was serious. 

He hadn’t used a condom.

Despite his best efforts, his limbs trembled. Thomas heaved himself up from where he had collapsed on top of Alex and pulled out of him, quick and without care. He winced.

Alex was left lying on Thomas’ bed, the chill of the room raising goosebumps on his naked body, when Thomas rolled over to the other side of the bed, facing him.

There was a dull throb of pain in his shoulder, his split lip stung, his throat was raw from crying and the pressure Thomas had applied, his hips were probably already bruising, and his hole felt stretched and empty and invaded and there was a trickling sensation like something leaked out of him- 

And Alex barely managed to roll onto his stomach and hang his head out over the edge of the bed before he started dry-heaving. He wished he had eaten something that day, just so he could throw it up onto Thomas’ stuff.

It took a few moments for him to calm down enough to talk, but he didn’t turn back around to look at Thomas. “You didn’t even use a condom,” Alex croaked out. His voice sounded scrubbed raw.

“Nope,” Thomas said, and he could hear the fucking grin on his face.

Alexander got up from the bed on wobbly legs and moved around the room to gather his clothes as efficiently as his stiff body would allow; he dressed as fast as he could and ignored Thomas’ gaze that just wouldn’t leave him, hot and so _heavy,_ like a physical touch to his body.

When he was fully dressed, with some of his thin and crumbling shields back in place, he turned to face him, even though he wanted nothing more than to leave and forget about everything without sparing him another glance.

“Never contact me again,” he said, but he didn’t look him in the eyes, he couldn’t.

“You gonna kiss Daddy goodbye or what?” was the only thing Thomas said, and Alex turned away and rushed out the room before the man caught sight of his face twisting in shame and humiliation.

* * *

It was close to midnight, and he had to take the bus home; luckily for him, no one on public transport cared about the other passengers, especially not the tired and done with the world people who took the midnight bus, so he could stare unseeingly out the window and cry and choke down his sobs in peace. If someone wasn’t having a mental breakdown on the midnight bus in New York City, what was the point, anyway? Alex aimed to please, after all.

His phone-screen read quarter past twelve when he finally reached their apartment-building; it was in a better part of town, so he wasn’t too worried about being out at that kind of hour. Besides, he doubted there was something worse that could happen to him after the kind of night he’d had.

Their apartment was big for New York standards, but his parents made good money–his father had been honorably discharged from the army as a Major General after more than twenty years of service. He had changed course and gone into politics instead. 

His mother was a lawyer, and a damn good one at that–she was the reason behind Alexander’s own aspirations to become a lawyer.

The door opened quietly into a short hallway. The first door on the right would put him straight into his own room, but he was in desperate need of a shower or five, and a stiff drink if he could find anything.

He made his way down the hall and into the living space, a kitchen-livingroom-diningroom hybrid in the style of a loft with big windows. To his left was the kitchen, and in the middle of the room were two dark leather couches, facing each other, with a low coffee-table between them. 

He stopped dead in his tracks when his tired eyes caught on the figure on one of the couches, who looked up in surprise when he entered.

His father had a mug in one hand and a folder in the other. He was in dark blue suit-pants and a white dress-shirt, the jacket next to him on the back of the sofa–he had been out, fuck, Alex had known about that, he had _known_ his father had a meeting tonight-

How had Alex not noticed the lights were still on?

His father’s eyes widened in alarm, and he set the mug and folder down on the table before he rose and crossed the room to him in quick strides.

“Alexander, what on earth happened? What are you doing here? Why are you crying? I thought you wanted to spend the night at your boyfriend’s, did you have a fight?”

His father’s low, smooth voice calmed him even when he was asking rapid-fire questions he would rather not answer. 

His dad grabbed his chin gently and lifted it a little so he could see all his shame better, and wiped at his dried and fresh and still falling tears with his cloth handkerchief. Yes, he was one of those weirdos who carried around a cloth handkerchief.

“I broke up with Thomas,” he said and watched as his father stuffed the fabric back into his pocket. 

He frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied, softly, and slipped an arm around Alexander’s shoulders to lead them both back to the couch he had just vacated.

“You won’t be for long,” Alex said and sniffled, sitting down closer to his father than he usually would. He winced at the pain that spiked from his lower back.

Perhaps sensing that Alexander just wanted to be comforted, he didn’t pull his arm back from Alex’s shoulders, even as his concerned demeanor shifted into his General Washington Mode at the statement.

“What did he do?” he demanded, the grip on his shoulder tightening. 

Alex stiffened at the harsh touch and his breathing sped up as fresh tears shot to his eyes, and General Washington was gone as fast as he’d appeared. 

“Oh, no, my heart, don’t cry,” he cooed, brushed Alexander’s messy hair from his forehead and pressed a soft kiss to his brow.

He really didn’t want to cry again, he had just calmed down a little and he had been at it for what felt like hours, but he couldn’t help it as his breath hitched and the tears spilled down his face. His goddamned eyes hurt from all this useless blubbering.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured and gently pulled him closer, so that Alex could rest his head on his father’s broad chest and ruin his shirt. 

He carded his fingers through his son’s unusually birdnest-like hair and rubbed soothing circles into his back until he had calmed down enough to talk. 

His father put some distance between them, so he was able to see his face and wiped at a tear with his thumb.

“Now, Alex, do you want to tell me what happened?”

Alex squirmed in his seat, looking anywhere but his father’s patient blue eyes. “I- Dad, it wasn’t, wasn’t my fault, I don’t think, but I still- I feel really bad. Really, really bad, dad.”

“Okay,” he said, keeping his voice low like Alex was some kind of frightened animal he was mindful not to scare off. Well, he probably did seem like one right then. “If it wasn’t your fault I won’t be angry with you, okay? Why don’t you tell me why you’re so upset? Take your time, sweetheart.” This man was a saint, a godsend. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it to get Alex to come down.

His eyes filled with tears again, but he blinked them away and scrubbed the one that escaped off his face with the back of his hand.

“I said no,” he said, then clarified when he saw his father’s puzzled expression. “to him. Thomas.” The name tasted like rot on his tongue. “Well, no, I don’t think I did, actually. I said stop, and get off, but I didn’t say no. Maybe it’s my fault, after all.” He laughed, bitter, and it didn’t feel good. 

Alex looked back at his father, and almost jerked away from him when he saw the expression on his face. 

He had never seen his calm eyes so overcome with unbridled rage, his jaw clenched hard enough Alex was afraid he might break a tooth, his fists balled so tight his knuckles were white as bone. His whole body trembled with the effort to reign himself back in, the only sound in the room his harsh, deep breaths.

“Daddy?” Alex said in a careful whisper, and that broke the spell.

He exhaled a long, shaky breath, and squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. When he opened them again and they found Alex, they were back to soft understanding.

“My sweet boy,” he said and pulled him closer carefully, as though he was afraid he would break him. He just might, if Alex was honest with himself. “My sweet, brave boy. It wasn’t your fault, of course not, I promise it wasn’t.”

Alex nodded weakly and rested his head on his father’s strong shoulder. The man continued to mumble soothing nonsense at him, but soothe him it did, so he didn’t complain. 

The gentle hand in his hair and the occasional kisses to the crown of his head had him relaxed enough to think about sleep; but he couldn’t go to sleep, not yet.

“I need to go get tested tomorrow, dad,” he said, trying not to think about why. His father tensed against him, but forced himself to relax again a moment later.

“Of course, my darling. Your mother and I can come with you if you'd like.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“And after, we’ll go by the police-station.”

He shut his eyes tight. The thought alone of telling anyone what happened made his head swim and throat constrict, as if his body was attempting to physically stop him from sharing his shame. “Dad-”

“I know, sweetheart, but we’ll be with you, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.” He lifted Alexander’s chin and pressed a kiss to his brow, but frowned when he pulled back. A gentle finger traced along his cheek, and Alex realised what his father had spotted at the same time his father did. “He hit you.”

Alex nodded, not trusting his voice with the massive lump in his throat. 

He could watch the struggle unfold on his father’s face; he wanted to ask what else Thomas had done to him, but he didn’t want to upset Alex, and he also didn’t _really_ want to know what exactly Thomas had done.

“Why don’t you go take a shower, hm? And then off to bed with you, you’ll feel better in the morning.” 

“I love you, dad, but you’re a terrible liar,” he said as he got up, a humourless smile on his face.

“I love you too, my darling, and don’t you forget it,” he answered, his smile thin and unconvinced, and in that expression alone Alexander could see how badly he wanted to cry himself, but he’d had to stay strong for him.

He had no doubt that his father would go to his parent’s bedroom as soon as he heard the shower start, wake his mother and tell her everything, and they would be devastated for him together, but they would also work out a game-plan for tomorrow and maybe even the day after, because that’s how much they loved him.

Maybe it was childish to think his parents could just swoop in and make everything right, but it was a childish fantasy Alex wanted to entertain, one that brought him comfort, one that filled his hollow chest with a bit of warmth. 

With their help, perhaps Alex would be able to pick some of the broken pieces of himself back up and fit them together again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm also on [Tumblr](http://binch-i-might-be.tumblr.com)!


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